


Cowboy Popsicle

by HanzobarMoustache



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Maybe questionable medical advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-07 00:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13422399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanzobarMoustache/pseuds/HanzobarMoustache
Summary: After falling into a frozen river, most people don't immediately start flirting with their savior. McCree is not most people.





	Cowboy Popsicle

"You are an idiot," Hanzo growls, tearing off McCree's soaked serape and throwing it. It hits the ground with a sick thwap, and McCree can't keep himself from laughing.

  
He's shaking enough that his spurs and teeth clacking together make a strange melody, something that compliments the beat of Lucio's music as it thumps from his speakers. Speakers that are close enough for McCree to lean into as the musician helps pull him back into the library where they've holed up for the week. "N-now d-don't you st-st-start wi-with me right n-now," he stutters, lips blueish and curled up into a grin.

  
"You wanna yell at him later?" Lúcio snaps, hauling McCree to the staircase with Hanzo's help. "If he gets pneumonia, I am not gonna be happy and neither will Mercy. And you bet Ana's gonna have someone's ass over it. Get him upstairs to the fire and take off his clothes."

  
Hana whistled from the library's check-in desk, feet propped up on the counter as she played a game on her phone.

  
"Now is not the time!" Hanzo grumbled, helping McCree up the stairs one at a time at a pitifully slow pace.

  
"He'll be fine. Lighten up, geez." She popped out of her seat, walking over to where they had set up a few monitors and settling down behind a keyboard. "I'll get in touch with Winston, see if they can spare Lena since it looks like McCree's going to be out of commission for a while."

  
"That'd be great. Zarya, you know where any blankets are in this place?" Lúcio asked, digging through the first aid kits, grumbling about snow and ice. His eyes lit up when he found a little medical booklet, but he grumbled and threw it down when there was nothing pertaining to cold in the booklet.

  
"There is not much to treatment. Just get him dry and warm... I will get blankets." The Russian woman dropped the length of rope they'd used to haul McCree out of the water to the floor, quickly disappearing into a hallway, footsteps reverberating against the walls as she went.

  
"You'd th-think I'd died or s-somthi-thin'. All this fu-fuss over l-lil' ol' me." McCree chuckled, fingers curling into Hanzo's shoulder when he lost his balance climbing the stairs. That was going to bruise; Hanzo said nothing.

  
"You are not quite out of danger yet."

  
"S-still up shit cr-creek without a pa-paddle, huh?"

  
"I think you fell in it, old man." Hana grumbled, tapping her fingers as the old computers whirred and struggled to connect to a network.

  
Hanzo grew impatient and anxious the longer it was taking to ascend the stairs. McCree was going to get sick at this rate, there was no doubt. Hanzo grumbled, "Hold on tightly," and knocked McCree's knee out to lift the taller man into his arms. He scowled at the sensation of cold, wet cowboy smacking into his chest.

  
McCree looped his arms around Hanzo's neck, completely taken by surprise with the action, managing only to say, "D-damn, this a-ain't what I th-th-thought they meant when someone was g-gonna sweep me off m-my feet someday."

  
Hana didn't even try to disguise her laughter.

  
"Shush," Hanzo attempted to silence the girl, but he was answered with a snicker instead. The archer climbed the stairs easily now, unburdened by McCree's frozen steps. The two found themselves before the fireplace quickly enough, and Hanzo set McCree down long enough to demand the man strip as he nursed the fire back to life.

  
"U-usually you a-ask a man to dinner f-first," McCree joked, already shakily shucking off his boots.

  
"McCree," Hanzo warned.

  
"Y-yeah, yeah, I'm strip-pin'. I'm strippin'." McCree pulled off his pants easily enough, but his hands shook too much to unfasten his chestplate, and Hanzo was forced to assist the cowboy. He made another joke, and Hanzo didn't even humor that one with a response. Instead, he simply draped one of McCree's spare serapes around his shoulders, earning a small thanks.

  
"Feelin' better already," McCree murmured, eyelids sagging.

  
"Stay awake, McCree."

  
"My arm. We should... take it off too."

"Your arm? Why would we-?" Hanzo's hand brushed the prosthetic; the chill from the river lingered in the metal. "Ah, yes, of course. How do I-?" The prosthetic was, frankly, a massive conglomerate of metal pieces that Hanzo didn't quite understand despite having his own prostheses. Of course, his legs were certainly more expensive and unquestionably more tasteful.

  
"Ya just..." McCree attempted to demonstrate, shaking hand flipping a few hidden panels open and attempting to finagle the releases with little success. "Shit, it ain't usually this hard."

  
Hanzo brushed McCree's hand away and carefully pressed his fingers against the releases, one hand holding the prosthetic limb at the wrist to keep a firm grip on it when it dislocated from its port. Hanzo set it aside, frowning at the metallic ring on McCree's stub.

  
"Thanks, darlin'," McCree mumbled, drooping some from the settling exhaustion.

  
Hanzo settled at McCree's side, guiding the man's head to lean on his shoulder. He didn't trust McCree not to pass out in the time it would take to find a pillow. McCree hummed softly, pulling his serape tighter and scooting closer to the archer. They were content enough to sit there a moment, to watch the fire as it ate through what passed for fuel in the library - old propaganda packets, lashed together with twine, thick enough to stop a bullet. It crackled rhythmically, soothingly, and Hanzo made a note to suggest Lúcio implement the noise into one of his songs.

  
Zarya knocked at the doorway, effectively knocking the two men out of their silent reverie. The woman was nothing if not private and respectful of these quiet moments. Hanzo got to his feet to meet her in the doorway. She deposited two blankets and a thermos of soup into his arms. "It is chicken noodle. Hope you do not mind, there was nothing else."

  
"Thank you, Miss Zaryanova."

  
"Do not wrap him up and let him overheat. Best way to avoid overheating is to share body heat first. If he is still cold, then add blanket. Will be downstairs with others if you need us."

  
"Thank you..." Hanzo watched her leave, puzzling over her advice. It seemed plausible enough. Then again, she didn't seem the type that would trick anyone or listen to the younger agents ideas of pranks...  
"You heard the lady, Hanzo. Seems like somethin' you cold-blooded dragon types would know already."

  
Hanzo bit back a retort, instead simply carrying himself over to the cowboy and placing the thermos in his hand. The archer took his time unfolding a blanket to drape around the both of them, easing himself down to his knees. "Do not spill that."

  
McCree laughed, pausing in his mission to screw the cap off the thermos. "'Scuse me, but I happen to be pretty well coordinated with-."

  
"You are still shaking. I will not appreciate it if you spill soup over the both of us."

  
"Guess that's true... might not be the most pleasant thing, huh?"

  
Hanzo did not answer.

  
"Hanzo?"

  
It took the man a moment to respond. "Do not ever do something so foolish again," Hanzo murmured quietly, taking McCree's stump in hand and rubbing at the metal port, hoping to create enough friction to warm it up even if only slightly.

  
"Heh, you know who you're talkin' to, don'tcha?" Hanzo glared; McCree relented, letting his chin drop a bit and extending the thermos to the archer. "I'll try my best to avoid a repeat o' the situation, Hanzo."  
"Good." Hanzo poured a bit of the soup into the cup that formed the lid of the thermos, just a bit though. Not enough to warm McCree fully. Not enough to burn too badly if he dropped it either. He handed it over.

  
McCree nodded his head in thanks, sipping at the soup after initially burning his lip. Gradually, he was able to keep his head up and stop shaking. Hanzo took the opportunity to fetch some clothes for the cowboy, coming back quickly just in case and offering the flannel pajamas. McCree, with some grimaces, pulled on the shirt and buttoned it up. He shoved his legs through the pants, thankful for the elastic waistband, before settling back down with the blankets and Hanzo.

"Thank you," McCree said eventually.

"You should be thanking Miss Zaryanova. She is the one that hauled you out of the river."

"Heh, yeah, figure I'll be extendin' Zarya her thanks in time, but I'm thanking you right now."

"Whatever for? Not grabbing you before you fell?" Hanzo spat the words, but the anger behind them was directed at himself.

"Nah, and don't beat yourself up about that. It's my own damn fault I fell. I'm thankin' you for crawling down the wall and lasoing me when you very well coulda slipped in yourself."

"It was the safest course of action."

"Mmm, nah I wouldn't think so. I can swim bout at well as a stone, you know that. Ain't safe to get close to that... all that floundering. Could have knocked you in."

Hanzo scowled, flicking McCree on the wrist. "No. Now shut up."

"Hmm..." McCree leaned into Hanzo, resting his cheek against the other man's head. "You ain't real good at acceptin' thanks, are ya?"

"I will not accept it because I do not deserve it."

"But ya do." McCree had forgotten he removed his prosthetic, stub jiggling slightly as he tried to link his absent fingers with Hanzo's. He huffed, reaching over himself to take Hanzo's hand. It was awkward, but it was the best he could manage at the moment. "I'll stop if it really makes you uncomfortable, but I really am grateful."

"I was afraid," Hanzo admitted, clenching his fingers around Jesse's to reassure himself the cowboy was there.

"No, no, darlin', please. I've been through worse you know this. Why just last week in Numbani-."

"That scared me, too."

"Shit, I'm sorry. You know me, stupid cowboy."

"But you are not. You are a brilliant man, and that is what frightens me. You should have recognized the risk, recognized it was stupid."

"Guess, uh, just been distracted lately."

"Well un-distract yourself. I do not want to lose you."

"Ain't that sweet?"

"McCree, take this seriously."

"I am, swear it... Alright, I'll be more careful."

"I am not, for the record, telling you to... hmm... to stop all your mannerisms. You can still bait the enemy, you are good at that, but perhaps you should not try to divert an entire battalion. I am in no way doubting your ability, but..."

"Heh, I gotcha, sweetheart." McCree stiffened when the pet name made Hanzo's hand clench around his own. "S-sorry, just sorta slipped out. I didn't mean-."

"No, it is quite alright." For the first time during their conversation, Hanzo pushed back into McCree, both hands around McCree's hand to play with his fingers. "I do not mind them, the nicknames. I... quite like them, actually, for all I seem to detest them."

"That so?"

"Mhmm... I think it would be best to let you know this, that I already... like you. Maybe it would convince you not to do all these stunts to get my attention."

"Huh..."

"Unless, I, er, misunderstood the situation."

"No! No, no, Hanzo, it's not that at all!" McCree laughed, would have rubbed the back of his neck if Hanzo wasn't holding his hand. "Just gotta give me a minute, dropping that bombshell on me 'nd all. I like ya too. C'mere." He wriggled his hand free of Hanzo's, wrapping his arm around the archer's waist and pulling him closer. Hanzo pressed ever closer to him, sighing gently in relief.

They were quiet a moment, and then McCree smiled. Hanzo scowled, "Do not."

"Don't what?"

"You smile like that when you tell me one of your ridiculous pick-up lines. McCree, don't."

"Hmm... but darlin'-."

"I will shove you back into the river. Do not test me."

"Well... someone had to break the ice."

"McCree!"

**Author's Note:**

> Silly little thing to fully appreciate Jesse's voice line. Written on my phone in one setting like... last April? Real old and unedited, but I need to clear out some files soooooo...


End file.
